


The Nanny

by oxiosa



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Latin Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, baby!Martin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2018-03-20 18:38:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3660930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oxiosa/pseuds/oxiosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And so, shooting both of them a hesitant last glance, Sebastián left through the door, leaving Luciano with Martín, and with what might had been one of Luciano’s worst decisions since he set foot in Uruguay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Nanny

**Author's Note:**

> Disclamer; the characters used in this work belong to the community Latin Hetalia and their respective creators. More info about them in the following link > www.latin-hetalia.livejournal.com
> 
> Argentina: Martín Hernández.  
> Brazil: Luciano Da Silva.  
> Uruguay: Sebastián Artigas.

Luciano Da Silva wasn’t the kind of person who racked their brains when taking decisions. He didn’t think much about stuff, unless it was actually and necessary required. He was, in fact, the kind that made up their minds rather quickly, the kind that only needed one simple impulse to get in action. He tried not to think much about things, since he knew that if he did, then he would spent the rest of his life thinking about it rather that getting anything done.

That was how, for instance, he had left Brazil and ended up in Uruguay.

It had only taken him a second to make up his mind, some minutes to pack his belongings and buy a plane ticket, and a couple of hours to reach Montevideo without a plan or much money in his pockets. But he had managed to go around the city, and to get - in less than a day – a sad but affordable apartment. He couldn’t actually complain, anyways. He considered himself quite lucky, in fact. Because even though he lived in a deplorable building, there he had met Sebastián Artigas, his neighbor, walking agenda, personal tour guide, occasional housemaid, and above everything else, best friend. And even though he sometimes missed his colorful Brazil, Luciano didn't regret his decision at all. In fact, he was rather happy with his decisions in general. With most of them. With the most recent ones, at least.

And perhaps, due to that lack of deep meditation when making decisions, Luciano saw no harm in visiting Sebastián without invitation or announcement that very night. He knew Sebastián would surely not mind, as he hadn't minded the previous times Luciano had invaded his place. Besides, he should have known it by now, after all, Brazil was playing tonight. And Luciano always went to Sebastián’s place when Brazil had a match – pure camaraderie that little had to do with Luciano’s old TV that barely made out the colors or Sebastián’s stunning LCD.

As he skipped down the stairs whistling absently minded, some beers in one hand and a couple of pizzas in the other, Luciano saw no harm in spending the night with his friend, celebrating Brazil's National Football Team's new coming victory.

He managed to somehow knock the door, and he waited, smiling slightly to himself. It didn't take long before the door opened, and Luciano gave Sebastián's exhausted face a wide smile.

“Hi, Se...”

The other half of the sentence got stuck in his throat when his eyes fixed on the little child Sebastián was carrying in his arms. Luciano stared mute at the small blond boy who clung firmly to Sebastián's shirt looking back at him with huge curious green eyes.

Luciano gasped and gave his friend a horrified look.

“He’s not mine, Luciano,” Sebastián informed, his soft voice raspier than usual.

Luciano let out his breath in a relieved sigh. He laughed softly and nervously, and a bit embarrassed as well.

“Oh, thank Goodness,” he sputtered with an apologetic smile.

Sebastián rolled his eyes and stepped aside to let him in.

Though Sebastián apartment was identical to Luciano’s, he had somehow managed to make the place look decent. While Luciano’s – and the rest of the dwellers’ – apartment basically looked like a depressing rat nest, with some paint, and the right couch, curtains, carpet and lighting Sebastián had managed to give the awful apartment certain elegant touch. Which actually was a lot to say Sebastián’s achievement was beyond admirable.

However, Luciano couldn’t help to notice, the place looked disastrous. There were huge books and countless papers mixed with children toys, bottles and pacifiers, all scattered on the floor, the dining table, and the couch, and any flat surface in sight. It was almost surreal… Luciano had never ever seen such a mess at Sebastián’s place. He had never seen it messy at all, actually.

“What the hell happened here?” he whispered, walking in almost cautiously, as if waiting for some kind of wild animal to jump at him – there was no other explanation for such mess.

“Don’t get me started,” answered Sebastián bitterly as he closed the door with a grimace.

“Ok…” Luciano replied slowly, turning around back to Sebastián. “Then do tell, who’s the little guy? You didn’t kidnap him, did you? How much are we talking about here?”

Sebastián shook his head to himself as the kid in his arms studied every one of Luciano's moves with an unreadable childish look. Luciano gave him a broad friendly smile. The boy answered by stretching slightly in his direction with interest, before changing his mind and pressing his lips in a pout. He snuggled closer to Sebastián's chest, his eyes suspiciously fixed on the intruder.

“He’s my cousin Martín,” Sebastián explained. “My aunt and uncle arrived this afternoon from Argentina. It’s been a long time since we last saw them, and I promised to take care of Martín for tonight so they could have dinner with my parents in peace.”

“How nice of you,” Luciano smiled somewhat amused as he left the beers and the pizzas on the counter, next to a half-drunk bottle of milk. “I didn’t know you had any cousins. I mean, besides Dani. But he doesn’t need a babysitter, as far as I’m concerned.”

“And I have no more, besides them both.”

Luciano snorted, and opened the pizza boxes as Sebastián started cleaning his dining table, leaving his books and papers on his couch carelessly. He seemed to have given up and have accepted that, apparently, there was no way for his apartment to stay clean for now.  
Just then did he notice Luciano's bright yellow shirt.

“Match?” he asked, as he sat down.

“I should be offended by your asking,” Luciano faked a disappointed face. “You should know.”

Sebastián sighed.

“I’ve been quite busy lately,” he frowned lightly, holding Martín tightly on his lap.

Luciano shrugged and took the food, the drinks and some napkins to the table.

“So, who are you playing against?” asked Sebastián as he nibbled his slice of pizza.

If it wasn’t for his own excitement, Luciano would have felt quite disappointed on Sebastián lack of interest.  
“Argentina!” he exclaimed enthusiastically.

Sebastián gave him a lazy smile

“Sounds like fun…” he said. “Too bad I’ll miss it.”

That wiped Luciano’s smile.

“What? Why?” he whimpered. “Aw, is it because of the baby? I bet he’ll enjoy the match, since he’s Argentinean, am I right? C’mon, it’s just a match, it’s not like we’re throwing a party. If he gets fussy, we could always make him sleep and...”

“I’ve been trying to make him sleep for and two hours already,” interrupted Sebastián, his voice surprisingly harsh. “and look at him.”

Luciano obeyed. Martín looked back at him while sucking his little fist, his green eyes bright and wide open. And while Luciano didn’t know much about babies, Martín didn’t look like a child willing to go to sleep soon. In fact, he looked more awake than Sebastián himself. And in a better mood too.

The babysitter in question pressed both hands to his face, lifting his glasses from his nose to rub his hazel eyes.

“Besides, that’s not the point,” Sebastián added, resigned. “I’m way behind with my essay, and the deadline is tomorrow. As soon as Martín falls asleep, I'll get back to to work.”

Well, that explained the particular mess.

“I can help you, if you want,” offered Luciano.

Sebastián looked up and gave him a skeptical look. Luciano returned a frown, a bit defensively. They glared at each other for half a minute before Luciano frowned even more deeply and looked away with a hurt pout.

“Ok, not with the homework,” he spat quite childishly. “But I can help you with… with him.”

Both of them turned back to Martín, who had managed to somehow get his hands in his cousin’s food without any of them noticing, and had stained his face, both his and Sebastián's clothes and the floor with melted cheese and tomato sauce.

“Martín...” Sebastián complained as he stood up and stretched the child arm length away from his body.

Luciano passed him some paper napkins. Sebastián took them, sat Martín on the edge of the table, and squatted at the child's eye level to clean his flushed cheeks and small nose. Martín let out a cheeky giggle before taking his cousin’s hand between his and tried to move it away from himself playfully. Once Martín’s face was clean again, Sebastián picked him up again and handed him to Luciano.

“Hold him for me...” he ordered.

Luciano obeyed without a word, although the same could not be said about Martín. As soon as he found himself out of Sebastián's arms, he opened his eyes widely, apparently horrified that his cousin would hand him to a stranger so easily.

“Eba, eba,” he called urgently between whimpers, following with his glance every single one of his cousin's moves, stretching his chubby arms, opening and closing his hands in his direction.

Sebastián didn’t bother to turn around. He just gave him a ‘One second, Martín, I’m going’ as he started to clean the floor. Luciano, somewhat discouraged by the kid's reaction, tried to give him his best smile.

“Olá, Martinho,” he called gently.

Martín looked at him for a couple of seconds with glassy eyes and puffed cheeks, ready to burst into tears. But he seemed to change his mind and choose to sulk instead. Luciano made an effort to keep his smile, but finally sighed and relaxed the muscles of his face, defeated. Well, at least the kid had stopped whining...  
“Leave him on the table,” Sebastián called.

He was carrying a clean baby bodysuit for Martín. Luciano made some space in the table to lay the kid on it.

And while Martín had already showed he was the kind of child who needed a constant supervision, it was still to be proved that staying still wasn’t within his abilities. Sebastián and Luciano struggled trying to take the stained clothes off him and trying to dress him up again. Luciano had to hold him in place while Sebastián worked on the child, who just wouldn’t stand still for a second.

Once Martín was clean again, Sebastián reached out to pick him up, but Luciano took the kid in his arms before Sebastián could. This time, the child didn't make a sound, perhaps too surprised by Luciano's daring. But he did give him an offended look. Sebastián, on the other hand, sighed.

“Lu...”

“So?” Luciano forced himself to smile. “Are you taking my offer? I take him to my place just for tonight, and you catch up with your essay. How’s that?”  
Sebastián squinted, considering it. It was that, let Luciano give him a hand with his troublesome baby cousin and be able to work in peace the whole night and meet the deadline, or struggle with Martín, waiting for him to fall asleep to start working and having to get him back to sleep again when he woke up in the middle of the night – because Sebastián knew Martín would wake up just to bother him.

It was tempting, really tempting, too tempting, but...

“Come on,” Luciano sensed his hesitation, and made himself smile even broader. “I’ll take care of him, I swear...”

“Martín’s not the one who worries me of you two, you know...”

“... we’ll have fun, we already get along. See, he likes me, he’s not crying anymore.”

Luciano’s fake enthusiasm not only did not fool anyone, but it also didn’t compensate the childish and upset pout that Martín refused to lose. Under other circumstances, Sebastián would have found the contrast funny. Right now, he felt way to stressed and overwhelmed to even smile. And perhaps that had been the reason why he finally gave into Luciano's charms.

“All right,” he accepted, feeling he would regret it later. “All right. After all, I’m exactly a floor below your apartment. If anything explodes up there, I’ll know.”  
Luciano let out a laugh. Martín just looked at him and then at his cousin suspiciously, not quite sure of what was going on, but clearly sensing that something he probably wouldn’t like was coming his way.

Sebastián quickly gathered all the toys and bottles scattered around and put them away in the baby bag his uncles had left along with their son. He sat Martín on his stroller and, hanging the bag over his shoulder and with a little help of Luciano, they both managed to climb the stairs to the upper floor carrying the stroller with Martín inside it – the damn building didn’t even have a elevator, it was actually quite sad.

“All right. I already fed and bathe him, and I just changed his diaper to make things easier for you,” Sebastián listed once everything was in place at Luciano’s apartment. “You should just get him to sleep. You can give him some warm milk for that, if you want...”

Luciano nodded slowly and lazily. Sebastián ignored him and looked around, as if he was searching for something he might be missing in the disaster Luciano’s apartment consisted of.

“Well...” he walked towards the door, and Luciano opened it for him. “If you need anything, or there’s any problem, or you regret this...”

“I’ll call you,” Luciano promised, and smiled sincerely as he patted his back smoothly.

The gesture seemed to accomplish its mission. Sebastián relaxed his tense shoulders and smiled weakly back at him.

“I owe you one,” he whispered somewhat ashamed.

“I’ll find a way for you to pay me back,” Luciano joked.

Sebastián smiled once again, and was about to leave when a childish voice called for him.

“Eba?”

Somehow, Martín had climb out his stroller, and was now standing in the middle of the room watching them both with wide horrified eyes, finally realizing his cousin’s plan. Sebastián walked towards him and picked him up. He raised Martín to his eye level and rested his forehead against the boy’s.

“Just one night, all right? I’ll be back before you even notice,” he promised softly before adding with severe tone; “Behave, ok? Be nice.”

He kissed his hair and hand him over to Luciano. Martín let them handle him around silently, giving Sebastián a look that pretended to be angry, but failed. Luciano wondered if the child had understood Sebastián’s words.

And so, shooting both of them a hesitant last glance, Sebastián left through the door, leaving Luciano with Martín, and with what might had been one of Luciano’s worst decisions since he set foot in Uruguay.

Luciano waved happily at him, and once alone, sighed. All right, he just had to take care of the kid. Couldn’t be that hard, could it? It was just a child. Besides, Sebastián had said it himself, he just had to make him sleep, nothing else. And if he had been awake for so long, Martín would probably fall asleep in no time. He looked down at the boy, expecting to find a sulky pout.

He was surprised to see that Martín still had his glance on the door through which his cousin had left, looking as if he was about to start crying any time soon.  
“Martinho?”

Martín rubbed his face with his tiny fists, the friction lighting his cheeks with a soft shade of pink. He avoided any eye contact, and, whimpering slightly, hid his face on the fabric of Luciano's shirt, pressing his face against his chest. Luciano gave him a little sympathetic smile.

“There, there,” he patted softly his diaper a couple of times. “C’mon, it's not that bad, I promise. You’ll have plenty of nights to bother Sebastián.”

Martín looked up at him, his cheeks still flushed, and did sulk this time – see, Luciano had the feeling the baby understood more than what he actually let know. He carefully left Martín in his stroller, and ruffled his blond hair before going to Martín’s baby bag for a bottle. Once he found one, he filled it with some milk and put it in the microwave. He let it heat, and while he waited, he turned to his couch, turned the TV on, and looked for the sport channel.

He smiled when the screen showed him the stands filled with flags, shirts, faces and wigs with the colors of the teams to face. Songs and voices in both Portuguese and Spanish mixed, tangling one with each other in a passionate dance among colorful confetti. It was like watching the waves of a huge and raging green, yellow, white and blue tide crash, hearing it roar with the expectation of what was coming. It sounded beautiful. It looked beautiful. It was beautiful.

The beeping of the microwave brought Luciano back to reality. He glanced at Martín, who was watching him with heavy eyes, lying back between the pillows and blanket they put in his stroller. Luciano smiled. This would be easier than what he thought.

“Here,” he offered the bottle.

Martín took it in his hands without a word, and then shoved it inside his mouth and laid back comfortably, a hand on the bottle, the other tangled in a strand of hair. There. Piece of cake. Martín would fall asleep in the blink of an eye. And he had been a bit worried when he offered to take care of the kid...  
Feeling a little encouraged, Luciano rummaged through his cupboard searching for some snacks, turned all the lights off, and dropped himself on his couch, completely satisfied. He turned the volume of the TV down slightly, in order not to bother the kid’s sleep, and then he turned to Martín. The child was still lying on his stroller, his bottle in his mouth and his green eyes still fixed on Luciano.

Luciano smiled at him and turned back to the TV as the players entered the field. Argentina’s Anthem started to play, and Luciano waited patiently as he watched the Argentine players and fans sing. Then, it was the turn of Brazil’s. He couldn’t help to straighten in his seat as the song of his homeland started to play, and to feel strangely proud too. Or so he did, until, in the middle on the song, he heard a loud thump coming from behind.

He yelped and turned around just to find Martín sitting in his stroller and his bottle – now empty – rolling on the floor. Luciano gave the TV a quick glance, making sure he wouldn't miss anything important, and stood up to pick up the bottle.

“That’s not nice, Martinho,” he scolded absently, half of his attention on the TV, as he left the bottle on the table and returned to his couch.  
The Brazilian and Argentine players were shaking each others hands. Luciano smiled in anticipation when the referee tossed a coin to decide who would start the game. And the ball went to… well, it didn’t matter, Argentina was starting the match. So what? That wouldn’t change Brazil’s imminent victory. It wasn’t like it was some kind of omen, or something.

It was after the first six minutes of the match that Martín started whimpering. Luciano turned over his shoulder to look at him just to find him squirming grumpily in his stroller.  
“Hush, quiet. Sleep, it’s late,” he begged and turned quickly when the crowd on the TV roared. Uf, Brazil had been close to score. Argentina wouldn’t be so lucky next time the Brazilians got that close to their goal...

Luciano hadn’t meant to, but soon again, he found himself giving the TV his complete attention. He just couldn’t seem to help it. Not when it came to football. He jumped in his seat, cursed in fast Portuguese underneath his breath, bit his fist to keep from yelling. He even forgot why he was being so quiet.  
He had been so caught up on it, that when he heard the next thump, this time coming from his kitchen, he almost jumped out of his skin. With his heart racing in his chest, he turned toward the source of the noise with wide eyes.

Martín stood in the middle of the kitchen, right next to his baby bag. Which Luciano had left over the counter. Well, that explained the thumping noise – but not how Martín had managed to get his hands on the bag. Luciano stood up, turned on the kitchen lights, and walked towards the child.  
“How did you climb out from your stroller, buddy?” he asked, more to himself than to Martín. It actually wasn't that surprising, come to think about it. It was the second time in the night he did it, wasn't it?

“Mumu,” was the only answer he received as Martín dropped on his butt on the floor. He gave the bag a couple of pats and then frowned up to Luciano demandingly.  
Luciano sighed, but got the message. He opened the zipper for him, and Martín smiled smug and pleased. Luciano rolled his eyes at the child, and then quickly looked over his shoulder back to the TV when one of the commentators said something about a penalty. He frowned, annoyed. Please, the Brazilian player hadn't even touched the Argentine who writhed in pain on the floor.

“Oh, come on,” he growled to himself. “He’s obviously faking it, the damn cheater…”

“Mumu!”

Luciano turned back to Martín, and despite the disaster the child managed to make while rummaging through the bag and the fact that now his kitchen was filled with colorful childish toys, he could not help to smile to see him hugging to his chest a round stuffed cow.

“Cute,” he granted. “Now, back to bed.”

He lifted Martín and walked back to the stroller. He hoped that now that he had his plushie, he would finally sleep. Maybe that had been the problem all along. Maybe all what he needed to fall asleep was that silly cow. However, Martín proved him wrong as he started to whimper when he guessed Luciano's intention.  
“No, no...” he sputtered with childish voice, frowning while kicking slightly in the air.

“C’mon, Martinho, it’s bed time,” he begged.

Martín simply whimpered and clung to Luciano, refusing to return to his stroller.

“No, no, no!” he started to raise his voice dramatically.

“Ok, all right, all right!” Sebastián would hear him if he kept on with that, so Luciano made him lay against his chest once more, which silenced the child’s complains immediately. "There, you win, geez.”

He returned to the couch, this time with Martín and the damn cow by his side. He settled some pillows around the child, hoping he would suddenly – and magically – fall asleep and bring him some peace.

He watched the game for some minutes, a little too self conscious about how quiet the room was. He glanced over Martín suspiciously. The boy sat right next to him, hugging his plushie tightly against his chest, his eyes fixed on the TV. He was actually paying attention to the match, following every one of the players moves with deep concentration. Luciano smiled amused and sympathetically. Well, look at that... who would have guessed. He actually was a football fan indeed.

The first half of the game was close to its end when the first goal was scored. The Argentine fans roared in utter elation while the players in white and blue hugged each other and celebrated in front of Brazil's goal.

Luciano refused to let that bother him. Because come on. It was just one simple goal. Nothing compared to the ones Brazil would do in the minutes remaining. Pff, just a goal. There was plenty of time, the game wasn’t over yet.

But he felt his blood boil in his veins when Martín started giggling and clapping his hands by his side.

“Goal!” Martín smiled broadly up at him, delighted.

Luciano couldn’t help to shot him a glare full of hatred.

The first half of the match ended with Argentina ahead by one score. Which Luciano still refused to worry about – and of course he wasn't nervous now that his team was losing, that would be silly, he knew Brazil would win this game. He gave Martín a quick look, making sure the kid was busy enough watching the colorful commercials, and then stood up. He took out from his fridge a can of soda, and then returned to the couch.

The second he sat down, Martín started whining again.

“Me, me, me…”

“What now?” Luciano asked as he watched Martín stand on his couch, come closer and take him by his shirt to tug whimpering softly. “What do you want? Are you hungry?”

Martín tugged some more, sticking out his lower lip and making puppy eyes.

“Me…”

Luciano sighed, and stood up again. He left his soda on the counter, and looked through his cupboards searching for some candy. He found a package of cookies, and took one to Martín hoping that would satisfy him for now. He offered it to him, and smiled when Martín grabbed it. However, while he didn't refuse the free treat, that didn't seem to be the problem, since he tried to shake Luciano again ignoring the cookie in his hand.

“Meeee…”

“What is it? Aren’t you hungry?” Luciano tried to guess. “Are you sleepy then?”

“Poooooop,” Martín whined.

Luciano stared at the kid for a whole minute, as if he had just frozen.

“Oh, God, y-you haven’t just soiled yourself... have you?” Luciano managed to spat out, terrified.

Martín stopped shaking him to pout, and oh Lord, that was it. The first thing that came to his mind was to run for his phone and call Sebastián. However, he forced himself to dismiss such a dumb idea. It wouldn’t be fair to bother him, and besides, Luciano was man enough to handle a little boy, wasn't he?

He grabbed his computer, googled 'How to change a diaper', and clicked the first link that came on screen. He watched the video tutorial carefully with deep concentration, feeling a bit like an idiot. And... well, it wasn't that hard.

“I mean, there are worst things in the world,” he tried to convince himself. “I mean, at least he’s a little baby and not some gross old man, right?”

He lifted the kid and picked the baby bag from the floor with his free hand. He laid him on the table, and undressed him. Martín let him work in silence, putting no resistance this time, following every one of Luciano's moves with his eyes. Once the clothes were removed and the diaper exposed, Luciano sighed and closed his eyes, taking a couple of seconds to get himself together. Martín stared down at him completely unimpressed.

“Here I go...” Luciano whispered, and undid the diaper slowly, barely daring to spy.

And he frowned. He opened the diaper completely, and studied it for some seconds. Well, that was not what he had expected. This was a nice surprise; the diaper was completely clean. As white and odorless as cotton. Well, that had been close.

He sighed, relieved, and started to close the diaper once again, when a yellowish stream shot from between Martín's chubby legs hit him straight in the face and chest. Luciano started cursing, and Martín burst into laughter.

Luciano closed his eyes tightly and fumbled blindly in search of the baby wipes he had found in Martín's bag. Still cursing and swearing, he wiped his face as fast as he could. Then he looked down to the soiled shirt of his beloved Brazil, and glared at Martín, fuming. The kid just gave him a shameless smile.

“Não posso acreditar...” Luciano growled to himself, furious, and took the garment off, twisted the cloth in frustration and made a ball of yellow fabric to throw to the floor.  
He regretted it instantly. He picked his shirt up and hug it tightly against his chest as he softly murmured apologies, and if it wasn't because it had just been peed on, he would had kissed it in compensation for the mistreatment.

He decided that unless he wanted it to get ruined, the best thing to do was to clean it up as soon as possible. He closed Martín's diaper and, without caring to dress him again in his haste, he left him on the floor and rushed for some water and soap powder. He could hear the commentators on the TV announcing the start of the second half of the match, so he just left the shirt in a bucket full of soapy water. He picked up Martín again – fortunately, the kid hadn't gotten far –, grabbed the bodysuit from the table and his soda for the counter, and returned to the couch in the exact moment the game started once again.

Leaving his drink on the floor, he dressed Martín, switching his attention from the boy to the TV and from the TV to the boy every three seconds. Once Martín was dressed, sitting on his lap, he started to whimper again.

“Me, me…”

Luciano seriously considered breaking or hitting something, when he noticed the child stretching towards his soda, his eyes fixed on it with desire shining clearly on them.  
“Pop!” he smiled at him.

“Pop. Right. That’s what you were saying,” Luciano cursed his luck, thinking how he could had been spare from the diaper incident if only he had known it before. “So that’s what you wanted all along?”

Luciano picked the soda from the floor. Martín took the drink between Luciano’s hands, and studied it carefully. Then, he tried to take it to his mouth.  
With a gentle pull, Luciano took it away from him.

“Ah, ah, no. This is not for babies,” he declared and, sitting Martín by his side, settled back to turn to the TV.

Which had been a bad idea. Luciano should have known that refusing to give Martín what he wanted couldn’t end up well. So he shouldn't had been surprised when Martín started crying at the top of his lungs.

But he had been surprised, and nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Oh, meu Deus! Oh, oh, I’m sorry, Martín! Shh, shhh, shush, quit it already, want some? Here, here, take it, here.”

Martín ignored him, apparently determined not to stop screaming any time soon – which showed the damn kid's cries weren't for Luciano to give him soda, but to punish and torture him. Luciano stood up and picked the child, making him rest his head on his shoulder as he walked around the room desperately trying to shut him up. If he didn't make him stop soon…

“His pacifier!” he exclaimed to himself, and he dashed to his kitchen.

He looked through Martín’s baby bag, until he found a pacifier, and shoved the thing into the kid’s wide open mouth. Martín stopped crying and opened his eyes in surprise, but immediately spat the pacifier out to keep on shouting. It hit Luciano straight on the forehead and then hit the floor. He grimaced, and walked around the kitchen patting Martín’s back, trying to calm him down with soft fast words.

He had his second bright idea when the telephone started ringing. He grabbed the cordless phone as he rushed once again to the kitchen, picking up the pacifier from the floor on his way. He sat Martín on the counter and pressed the green bottom as he pushed the thing to his ear.

“Hello?” he sputtered over Martín dreadful cries as he took a jar from the cupboard as fast as he could.

“What’s going on up there?”

Sebastián, of course. Luciano decided to answer with actions. He opened the jar, and plugged the pacifier in the little remains of the dulce de leche Sebastián had given him some days before – Uruguayan dulce de leche, the best there is, he remembered Sebastián had said with a cocky smile. Without thinking it twice, he shoved the now sticky pacifier into Martín’s widely open mouth once again.

The silence that followed the action was almost magical. Martín opened his eyes surprised, but this time, he didn't spat the pacifier out. Instead, he sucked delighted, his tiny hands pressed on his flushed cheeks as he stared at infinity with shiny eyes, like he had just seen Heaven. Luciano smirked triumphant.

“What’s going on up here?” he used his best voice and laid back against the kitchen's counter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

On the other side of the phone, Sebastián remained silent. With admiration, Luciano supposed, sticking his chest out proudly.

“Luciano…” Sebastián finally ventured in a low whisper. “Luciano, did you kill him?”

Luciano laughed and picked Martín up to carry him to the couch – with the jar of dulce de leche under his arm, just in case. He sat back, Martín on his lap, and gave the child the jar. He took it happily without complaining. Luciano looked over the scoreboard on the side of the TV, and frowned. Still the same. Well, at least he hadn't missed any goals.

“Of course not,” he answered, sinking in the cushions. “I'm good with kids.”

“Oh, really, uh?” Sebastián sounded completely skeptic. “Since when?”

“Hey, I made him stop,” Luciano pointed.

“And later you'll tell me how on Earth you did it, I need to learn that trick,” he could hear Sebastián's smile on his voice, which then turned a bit more serious. “How's everything going till now?”

Luciano decided to lie, and pretended to be happier than what he actually felt.

“Wonderful! We're both watching the game like old friends. He seems to be a football fan. He cheered Argentina's goal and everything...” he frowned at that last part.

Sebastián sighed, and Luciano had the impression he didn’t fell for his lie at all. However, if he didn't – and he probably didn't –, he let it be.

“How’s the match going?” he asked instead.

Luciano straightened involuntary taking a defensive posture.

“Argentina’s winning by one point,” he tried to sound indifferent, as if it wasn't big deal.

“Ouch,” Sebastián smiled again.

“Not for very much longer, don’t worry,” Luciano reassured quickly. “We’re just making things more interesting. Letting them get their hopes up, building up some tension, and that kind of stuff. Wouldn’t be half as fun otherwise, you know?”

“Sure…” more smiles.

Luciano frowned and decided to change the subject.

“So, how’s your essay going?” he asked.

Sebastián sighed. Luciano smiled. Touché.

“Still a bit behind, but progressing. It's more than what I could have said with Martín here.”

Luciano nodded sympathetically, and glanced at said child. Martín looked back at him with big innocent eyes, as if the tantrum seconds ago had never happened.

“Hey,” called Sebastián. “I just wanted to know how you were up there. I won’t bother you anymore. Luck with Argentina.”

That last thing he had said it with a mocking tone that Luciano didn’t like at all.

“Luck with your boring essay,” he answered back.

He heard Sebastián’s laughter in the other side of the line as he hanged the phone. He frowned, quietly cursing at him underneath his breath, and threw the phone anywhere. Martín raised his brows surprised by Luciano’s carelessness. Luciano raised his brows mockingly at the kid in response.

They kept on watching the game, and by the time there were only some minutes left, Luciano was officially on the edge of his nerves. And this time, Martín had nothing to do with it – he was way too busy licking dulce de leche from his hands and face, staining anything his sticky little fingers reached. The match was about to come to an end, and Brazil still hadn’t scored a single goddamned goal.

“Please… there, there…” he whispered hunching over himself, rubbing his hands nervously as his eyes followed the player in yellow who finally managed to get through Argentina’s defense. “That’s it, there you go, yes.”

The player passed the ball, kicking it with all his strength, to one of his teammates who was standing right in front of the goal. Argentina’s goalkeeper came out to meet the ball as the Brazilian player jumped in the air ready to head it as well. This was it. It was this, or nothing. This could be Brazil’s last chance to score. Everything was up to those two, now everything depended on who would be faster, who would be skilled enough, who would be luckier, and…

… and the screen went completely black.

Jumping out of his seat, Luciano grabbed his head and pulled his thick hair hard.

“NO!! QUÉ PO…?!”

He desperately looked around, basically turning upside down everything in his reach as he frenetically looked for the TV’s remote control, whispering curses and prays at the same time. After a painful minute of frenzy, he finally saw the thing.

Right in Martín's mouth.

“Give me that!!” he yelled violently as he jumped at the boy and took the control from him without caring at all at the fact that it was completely wet with saliva and sticky with dulce de leche. As quickly as he could, he turned the TV back on.

On screen, the Brazilian players danced and hugged each other in the replay's slow motion. Good news, they had scored, and Argentina wasn't winning any more – even though Brazil wasn’t either. Bad news, he had missed it.

Luciano dropped himself in the couch with an exasperated snort. He massaged his skull and bit his tongue to hold back the curses stuck in his throat. He whined quietly for some seconds, and then turned his face to glance over Martín.

He was surprised to find the child rigid in his place, looking back at him with terrified wide eyes. Luciano remained froze in place, unable to even think as he watched silently how Martín burst into tears. He didn’t cry half as loud as he had done some minutes ago, but he sounded truly upset and sincere, even shaken.

“I-I’m so sorry, Martinho,” he finally reacted, feeling how guilt slowly took over him. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m sorry.”

He picked up the sobbing child and stroked his back trying to calm him down. Martín curled against him, and kept on crying on his shoulder. Luciano hunched over himself, bringing Martín closer to his chest.

He gritted his teeth, and closed his eyes. He himself felt like crying too. He felt frustrated and miserable. On the one hand, he felt that after all the child had put him through, he couldn’t be blamed for finally having snapped. Martín had driven him crazy, and truth be told he had been really patient with the kid. But on the other hand, he couldn’t help to feel terrible over having yelled at a little boy. Martín was just a baby, and Luciano couldn’t believe he had screamed and scared him.  
He was starting to feel sick.

“There, there,” he begged as he felt his stomach give a horrible twist. “I won’t scream at you again, I swear. I’m sorry, I really am.”  
Martín hiccupped, and kept on sobbing softly, clinging tightly to him. Luciano opened his eyes once again, and caressed his hair with lost eyes and tight lips. He really wished he knew what to do. He sighed heavily, and without actually realizing what he was doing, he started to sing in whispers a lullaby from his home. He sang about loneliness and longing, about bitterness and joy, about sadness and happiness, every word dancing on his tongue with magic. Martín rested his head on Luciano’s shoulder, and listened carefully the words he couldn't make out - but still seemed to somehow understand – until he eventually stopped crying.  
When the last note escaped his lips, Luciano sighed deeply, and closed his eyes to rest his forehead over the child’s blond crown. All he could hear now were the distant voices in the TV praising what had been a tight match, and their soft breathing.

Luciano looked at Martín. The boy was still awake, but his reddened eyes were heavy with sleep. Luciano wiped the tears off his cheeks, and stood up gently enough not to shake him too much. He was about to leave him in his stroller, where he would be more comfortable. Martín’s whimpering caught him totally by surprise.  
“No, no,” he murmured quietly, and sleepily reached towards Luciano.

Luciano obeyed, confused. He couldn’t help to feel moved when Martín, once he saw Luciano wouldn’t put him back in his stroller, closed his eyes and cuddled closer to him sighing satisfied. Luciano smiled despite himself, completely surprised by Martín’s action.

He carried the child to the bathroom, and cleaned his sticky cheeks and fingers with a wet towel carefully enough not to wake him up, and undressed him from his dulce de leche dirty bodysuit – which ended with Luciano’s soiled shirt in a bucket full of soapy water. He took a blanket from his closet, turned all the lights off, and once he was lying on his couch, Martín and his silly stuffed cow cuddling against his chest, he turned off the TV.

The room fell in almost utter darkness, excepting some rebel light that filtered through the window’s curtains, drawing strange orange shadows on the walls. The only sounds to be heard were the distant roaring of car’s engines some floors below, a lonely dog howling at the moon, and Martín’s quiet snoring. Luciano carefully stroked the child’s soft hair a couple of times before resting his hand on his small back. After a terrible night, exhausted and strangely satisfied, Luciano closed his eyes and sighed to fall asleep.

  
He was woken up the next morning by someone knocking softly at the door. Luciano groaned in his sleep, but didn’t move. After some seconds of silence, the knocking sounded again, and Luciano opened his eyes, blinking groggily.

The sun light came through the curtains tenderly, giving his grey apartment a misleading warm appearance. Martín still snored softly on his chest, one hand around his stuffed cow, the other closed around nothing, fingers curling lazily in the air.

The knuckles hit the wood once more, persistently. Ah, yes, the door.

As gently as he managed, Luciano stood up with Martín in his arms, and once he was standing, he left the child on the couch again, settling him around some cushions. Skipping on his tiptoes, Luciano run to the door, and opened it.

Sebastián smiled at him with a couple of smoky mugs in one hand, and a paper bag from which escaped a delicious warm scent in the other. Despite his smile, Luciano couldn’t help to notice behind his glasses and under his hazel eyes two big dark bags that gave away his little – if none – hours of sleep.

“Good morning,” he greeted, his voice a bit hoarser than the night before.

“Good morning,” Luciano held back a yawn.

“Wanna have breakfast?” he offered, and pointed with his head towards his filled hands.

Luciano stepped back to let him in. Sebastián walked inside slowly, studying Luciano’s apartment carefully. Luciano closed the door and took a seat at his table, letting Sebastián seek for whatever he seemed to be looking for. Whatever it was, he didn’t find it – or perhaps he did, who knew – since he turned to Luciano nodding to himself impressed. He left the paper bag on the table, and gave Luciano one of the mugs. Luciano took it more than happily.

They ate and drank Sebastian’s warm croissants and smoky coffee silently, still too sleepy to chat, both their minds somewhere else. It was Sebastián who, clearing his throat, finally broke silence.

“I owe you an apology, don’t I?” he ventured softly, giving him a guilty look.

Luciano sipped his coffee and shot him a dark sharp glare over the edge of his mug. He wore a scowl, but soon his frown turned upside down and he smiled shamelessly.

“Yes, you do, you asshole.”

Luciano’s smile made Sebastián finally relax his tense shoulders and smile back in relief.

“You came up with the idea,” he pointed out, feeling a little better.

Luciano laughed openly.

“You knew what I was getting myself into! You could have warned me! Convince me otherwise!”

“You should have read the small print of the contract,” he smiled as he took a sip of his coffee. “And for the record, I did warn you, you just didn’t listen.”

Luciano shook his head, pretending he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“I should be mad at you,” he murmured lightly.

“I agree,” Sebastián nodded, losing his smile a bit. “Do tell, why aren’t you?”

That was an excellent question. Luciano thought about it.

“Well… it wasn’t that bad. I mean, in the end. In the very end. The rest was awful,” he grimaced. “How about your essay?”

Sebastián game him a little smirk.

“Everything’s under control,” he said quite proudly.

Luciano opened his mouth to answer, but kept quiet when he heard a soft yawn. Both of them turned to the couch, where Martín sat rubbing his eyes with his tiny fists. They watched him clumsily climb off the couch and walk toward them dragging his plushie along with him.

Ignoring both Luciano and Sebastián, he stood on his tiptoes and stretched as much as he could trying to reach for some food, frowning lightly as his chubby fingers patted the edged of the table blindly. Sebastián gave Luciano a startled look.

“And here I though he would be dying to see me again. Not the welcome I was expecting…” he raised his blond brows. “I should be offended.”

Luciano smiled broadly, amused and a little proud. Sebastián turned to the kid.

“Tincho,” he called softly.

Martín stopped trying to reach for food and looked over his cousin, squinting with eyes heavy with sleep.

“Come here, runt,” Sebastián called again with a little smile curving the corner of his lips.

Martín obeyed, walked to Sebastián and hugged his leg laying the weight of his light little body against the limb, clinging to it with one arm as the other dragged his plushie. He rubbed his nose against Sebastián's pants, let out a long yawn and rested his head on his knee to close his eyes with a satisfied sigh. Sebastián lifted the kid and sat him on his lap. Martín cuddled against his chest, ready to go back to sleep.

Sebastián caressed his hair tenderly before giving Luciano a suspicious look.

“You seriously must teach me your secret,” he whispered softly. “How the hell did you do it? What the hell did you do to him?”

Luciano laughed, making Martín open his eyes in surprise for a couple of seconds before he closed them again and snuggled closer to Sebastián.

“I already told you, I'm good with kids.”

This time, Sebastián couldn’t help to smile with him, somewhat amused.


End file.
